Enigma
by LittleLadyhawke
Summary: Meet the other man in Scully's life


TITLE: Enigma

AUTHOR: JB (Jewel)

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DISCLAIMER:

CLASSIFICATION: MSR

RATING: PG-13

SPOILERS: Slight One Breath, Bad Blood, and Triangle.

Nothing too major, though.

ARCHIVAL: Anywhere as long as you ask first :)

SUMMARY: Meet the other man in Scully's life.

Enigma

She's an enigma. "The Enigmatic Dr. Scully" I've heard she's been called. Her beauty draws men to her like honey draws bees, but her strength and independence repel them.

She's not weak, but she's also not as strong as she would like people to believe. She is diminutive in size, but she is larger than life. She has hair like fire, but her eyes can be like ice. She gives freely of herself, but will not take of anyone.

Very few people know her as well as I do. I know when she's afraid and I know when she's sad. There are times when she is on one of her natural highs, and just calls to share with me. I know when she wants to talk, and when she would just rather listen. I know all these things. The one thing that I didn't know was that she's in love.

I realize this as I wander aimlessly around her apartment. When we got here, she mumbled something about wanting to shower and change before her "guest" arrived. Still wish I knew who it was. All I caught was the "he" part. I volunteered to cook, but she just waved me off and ordered Chinese takeout. Well, can't say I didn't try.

I start my wanderings in her living room. It's different then I remembered. The color scheme is a little different. I notice that the chair in the corner is not the one that was here last time I paid a visit. I recognize it from somewhere, but I can't put my finger on it. I stop and think for a few moments, but I can't grasp the image that dances suggestively just out of reach. Oh well, it'll come to me sooner or later.

I continue on to the fireplace mantle. There are family pictures all the way across. Some professionally taken, and others just captured moments. My eyes mist when I come across one picture in particular. I gently pick up the picture, not wanting to damage one of the last images of Melissa.

She and Dana had been so close, yet different as night and day. Dana always depended on science to answer all of her questions, and Melissa...well, Melissa was just Melissa. She never had a problem opening herself up to extreme possibilities. I remember...right now, I don't want to remember Melissa. I carefully set the picture back in its place, and take one last look at the beautiful smiling face.

There's a picture of Bill and his family. I cringe. Bill and I never got along. He's arrogant and self-righteous. He's just this side of pompous. He always thinks his opinion is the only right opinion and all others must agree. I know he has to give Tara hell! He doesn't deserve a woman as sweet and understanding as Tara. The best thing I can say about Bill is he helped produce one helluva smart kid. Matthew is destined to be some sort of genius. Can't wait to see his IQ test scores.

Ah! Mom and Pop Scully. When I look at this picture, I see pure unadulterated love. The kind I hope to find. I need to go see her, and soon. Maybe I'll call her tonight, if it's not too late.

I go over to the stereo and the CDs lined up neatly beside it. Such an eclectic mix of music. They range from Soundtracks such as "Barm Stoker's Dracula," to the latest album from Bruce Springsteen.

I turn and scan the room once more, to see if I have missed anything in all my nosey glory. Ahh! The desk. I just have a thing about rifling through other people's desks. As I walk over, I catch sight of her gun. It still amazes me that someone so small can pack so much heat. She always was a strong one. I smirk a little. Part of me wants to pick it up and hold it, but the other parts demands that I do no such thing. I always have been rather practical.

I open the top drawer on the desk, and find that it is the ever-famous junk drawer. In this case, though, the junk drawer is still neat and organized. The bills are all stacked neatly together. Light bills here, phone bills there, and so on and so forth. The whole drawer follows this pattern. I roll my eyes heavenward and wonder if anyone can possibly be this anal without being some sort of obsessive-compulsive. That's just her I guess.

I move on to the second drawer. A couple of pictures catch my eye. I pull them out to examine them closer. Before I can peruse them further, the doorbell rings. Well, it's about damn time. I thought my stomach was gonna start eating itself. She's still in the shower, so I'll seize this opportunity to pay for the food. She'll be mad, but she'll get over it!

I open the door, and if this is a delivery boy, they are sure making 'em well dressed these days. Hey, wait a minute, shouldn't delivery boys come with a delivery? The man before me is around my height at six feet tall or there about. He's wearing what I think is an Armani suit in navy blue. The shirt is a crisp white, and the tie...Oh my God the tie! The tie defies description. Are those...aliens? Alrighty then.

The thing I notice most about this man is that he's eyeing me as if I don't belong here. OK, time to break a little ice. I extend my hand and introduced myself.

"Hi, I'm Charles Scully and you are?"

He looks at me for a moment. I'm beginning to think he's not going to return my gesture. Then I see what I think is recognition cross his face. He smiles slightly and grasps my hand.

"Mulder." he says, "Fox Mulder"

Oh. This is the guy that Bill has been bitching about. This might be interesting. As a general rule, any enemy of Bill's is a friend of mine. I smile broadly and invite him in.

I watch Mr. Mulder as he sheds his over coat and hangs it in the closet. He seems to be perfectly at ease in my sister's apartment. Hmm...This might be very interesting. He turns and looks at me. I notice he's fidgeting a little. I'm not sure if it's a nervous tick or not. Since I'm an inherently nice guy, I figure I'll play my hand first.

"Hey look Fox..." I begin.

"Mulder," he says.

"I'm sorry?" I'm a little confused now.

"Mulder," he says again, "I prefer to be called Mulder."

OK, whatever's clever. Guess if my Mom had named me Fox, I'd have gone postal a long time ago.

"Sorry, didn't know. As I was saying, I know that Bill has given you a pretty hard time. Believe me I have no intentions of doing the same, so relax." I flash my best smile.

To my surprise, he seems to relax. Guess I am charming. Ha! Eat that Bill.

We sit down on the couch. And look at each other expectantly. Once again, I have the feeling the first move is mine. I'll play along. Whatever floats his boat.

"So Mulder," I start "tell me about yourself."

"What would you like to know?" he questions.

"Anything or everything. Whichever you prefer," I seem to catch him a little of guard. Score one for Charlie. I'm beginning to like this game.

"Anything is too vague, and everything is too much. You'll have to be more specific," his eyes are calm, but there is a smile behind his words.

Mulder shoots! He scores! The game is tied!

"Well, there has got to be something you want to share with the class," I joke.

"Scully hasn't told you anything about me?" He asks.

He seems almost hurt. The truth of the matter is that when we talk, we very rarely mention our jobs. I've picked up bits and pieces here and there. Because they come mostly from Bill, I usually take them with a grain of salt. I have often gotten the feeling that she avoids discussing her job and partner with me. Suits me fine. She avoids talking about that, and I avoid talking about my ex-wife Dorian. All works out in the end, I guess.

Because I'm such a great kid brother, and I don't want to cause any friction in the budding romance, I decide to answer him. Quite untruthfully.

"Well, actually yes she...Scully?" now I'm really confused.

He smirks a little. I've never been one to quit, so I just keep on lying through my teeth.

"Yes, she has told me some about you, but I want you to tell me about you."

He looks at me, and I am forced to look right back at him. His green eyes to my blue ones. Then he does something I don't expect: He laughs. He continues to study me, and I do the same. I notice the moment it happens. Even if I weren't able to feel her presence in the room, the way his eyes lit up when they landed on her would have told me.

I look over my shoulder and see the same bright and shiny look in my little big sister's eyes. This could be very interesting indeed.

"What are you guys up to?" she asks.

"Just trying to get blood from a stone," I answer.

Mulder and I look at each other, and burst into another round of laughter. When we finally settle down, I look at Dana. She is totally confused. Good. There are some things that guys just need to keep to themselves.

Before she can be nosey, that's my job after all, the doorbell rings. I get to the door and pay for the food before she has a chance to protest. Ha! Beat you to it little girl!

Aw hell! She's giving me "the brow." I haven't gotten "the brow" since I was eleven years old and put a few sprigs of poison ivy in Bill's prom tux. Yeah I got grounded for weeks, but it was sure worth it. She's slightly ticked, but she'll get over it.

Mulder winks at me behind her back. I can tell he's no stranger to "the brow." Yep, I am truly beginning to like this guy. Come on people; let's get this show on the road.

After about forty-five minutes of eating and another three hours of lively conversation, I decide it's time for me to exit stage left. I doubt very seriously I'll be missed. I enjoyed listening to some of their outrageous adventures, although, I got the feeling they each saw the incidents differently. He would insist the kid was a vampire, and she would tell him, again, the fangs were fake. He told me he really was on the Queen Anne, and she told me he had a massive head trauma and almost drowned. The whole conversation went back and forth like that. I felt as if I were watching a tennis match.

As I prepare to say my goodnights, Mulder stands up and offers his hand. I realize as I shake it, I am glad he is watching my sister's back. I am also honored to be able to call him friend.

Being the wonderful little brother I am, I figure I'll give Dana a hand. She's really is slower than a snail when it comes to matters of the heart and all. "I hope you're not gonna rush off," I say to Mulder, "I'm sure you guys rarely get the chance to just talk at work, so have at it kids!"

I don't even bother to look at Dana. I know I'm getting "the brow" and the "Unholy Dana Death Stare." She'll be all right though.

"It was a real pleasure to meet Dana's lov...partner," I'm sure neither caught the slip.

I make a quick exit to the guestroom.

As I lay here trying desperately to get used to sleeping in a strange bed, I realize that it has been a long time since I have seen Dana this happy. She would be the last to admit it, but she is and it's all because of him. Take that Bill you pompous, arrogant, ass!

I wake sometime later. I sit up and listen for a moment. Easing from the bed, I put on my robe and head to the kitchen. As I get to the living room, I stop dead in my tracks. There on the couch is Mulder and my sister sleeping soundly in each other's arms.

As I head to the linen closet to retrieve a blanket, it hits me like a bolt of lightning. The chair. The chair that was out of place. I know where it came from! It was Missy's favorite chair.

I spread the blanket over them, careful not to disturb their peaceful slumber. Mission accomplished. I move over to the chair and sink into its plush softness. I can almost feel Missy wrap her arms around me like she used to when I was little. I think back to the last time I saw her.

She was seated in this very chair, telling me about the man that was holding Dana as they slept. Missy had said she believed Mulder was responsible for pulling Dana back from the dark edge of death. That he had given her the strength of his beliefs. She had also said that if Dana weren't already in love with him, she soon would be.

I pushed myself up from the pillowy thickness of the chair; not losing any of the warmth that surrounded me.

As I walk past the fireplace, I look once more at Melissa's picture.

"How right you were, Missy. How very right you were."

As I turn to head back to bed, I could swear I see the smile of the beautiful woman in the picture shine just a little brighter in the predawn light.

End


End file.
